


just give me until then

by 1sleepydormouse (AlderBee), AlderBee



Series: saturnine [1]
Category: Archie Comics, Archie Comics & Related Fandoms, Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, F/M, Hopeful Ending, Light Angst, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-09-05 06:27:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16805254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlderBee/pseuds/1sleepydormouse, https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlderBee/pseuds/AlderBee
Summary: She always had to bite her tongue, curl her toes, dig her nails into the leather of the steering wheel. I love you, you idiot. I would never want to change you. You are so perfect for me. I’m perfect for you. I’d do anything for you. Why can’t you see?





	just give me until then

This was pathetic.

The worst.

The  _ saddest thing. _

Two in the morning, and here she was. Responding to his SOS.

Again.

Betty shivered under her long-sleeved t-shirt and sweats, a heavy varsity jacket pulled tightly over her shoulders. The heater on her car was set at low, which wasn’t the most comfortable setting for her, but  _ his _ body temperature ran unnaturally hot all year round and he complained about heat all the time.

Just the thought made the corners of her lip twitch up in a small smile. Sad and resigned.

Oh, she was in so much trouble.

A bright light flickered on in front of the strange home she was parked in front of, and Betty looked up just in time to see harsh fluorescents bring sharp highlights to the soft darkness that hid a neatly trimmed front lawn. Perfectly rounded bushes, spider-web free furniture and linen pillows. A cookie-cutter wooden, front door painted in what Betty assumed was a beachy-teal. The perfect home for a perfect high-school girlfriend.

Or, at least Betty thought she was.

Betty squeezed her hands between her thighs, willing warmth into her fingers just as the door flew open. Jughead marched out, pulling his heavily worn jean jacket over his iconic crown t-shirt. It was one of Betty’s favorites, unable to help but associate her best friend with every crown icon she saw in the most innocuous places. 

Even from this distance, Betty could see the hard frown set in Jughead’s face, head half turned to yell something into the brightly lit house. Betty could just barely catch the approaching figure of a woman - beautiful and slim, shoulder length hair loosely curled in touchable waves, delicate shoulders framed in a soft-looking cardigan and camisole combo - shaking in responding anger. Kissable lips twisted in clear indignation, Betty could barely catch she shape of the words leaving her mouth before Jughead slammed the door closed, stomping backwards in his heavy boots as he flipped the doorway off.

Another bad night in a string of bad nights.

Betty tended to lose count of how many arguments and fights Jughead had with any one of his partners. From middle school, all the way to their Junior year, literally on the cusp of being seniors, Betty watched the revolving door of lovers enter Jughead’s life. Beautiful and delicate girls, sporty and aggressive girls, a few wispy-haired boys with big eyes and easy lips. Each one, every single boy and girl who had the privilege of calling themselves Jughead Jones’ significant other found themselves in no more than three explosive arguments, usually resulting in Jughead reaching the end of his rope and ending things with a casual snap of his jacket.

Judging from the tight set of his shoulders and the wide, final movements of his legs, this was the last - and first - time that Betty would see the front of this particular home.

Relief and shame waged a painful war within Betty. Like it always did.

Jughead’s favorite rock back was playing softly through the car speakers: a specific mix of songs that Betty always kept in her car just for these occasions. The heavy crone of the singer was drowned out momentarily as Jughead yanked the door of her car open and dropped himself into the passenger seat, rocking the car in angry jerks before yanking the door closed.

Betty felt like silence personified as she watched Jughead silently stew in a personal storm right beside her. 

She knew the drill. Jughead hated extreme emotions. Exuberant happiness, abundant sadness, uncontrollable rage. It didn’t matter exactly what kind of emotion it was. If a person didn’t have a handle on it, it drove Jughead bonkers. It was something that always mystified Betty.

Before all of the dating and hormones, Jughead kept himself in very low-confrontation situations. His friends were people he grew up with, and that consistency kept him content. Whenever things got out of hand (as they tended to within a group of boys, regardless of their age), he would hole up with Betty. Reading, playing video games, baking together, or just napping along the tree-lined edge of the neighborhood park. Betty never imagined that Jughead was even  _ interested  _ in other people, let alone the idea of dating. 

Some kind of switch in Jughead flipped without a second thought while they were in middle school. Before Betty knew it, she was finding Jughead in dark corners, pressed against the girl or boy of the week.

Now, that wasn’t fair, Betty scolded herself, pressing her head against the headrest of her car as she felt Jughead begin the process of calming down, cracking his knuckles and twisting a half-packet of cigarettes in his hands (Betty didn’t let anyone smoke in her car. Jughead always respected her wishes.) Jughead’s shortest relationship was three months: the longest nearly a year. Even if there were a lot of them, Betty could clearly see that Jughead held some level of affection for the people he dated. She could easily read the adoration on his face, silently jealous at the warmth she saw aimed at these other strangers.

God.

This was  _ the saddest, most fucking pathetic thing _ .

With a sigh, Jughead dropped his head back against the back of his own seat. “Let’s get out of here, Bets.”

Betty obeyed. 

Waiting for Jughead to silently buckle himself in, she put the car in gear and pulled out into the silent street. 

They had this down to a science by now. On the nights when Jughead called Betty, it was the end of a relationship. Jughead always vented, venom in his voice about what a waste it all was, how he didn’t understand why all of these people kept trying to save him or change him. About how much he actually  _ did _ love them, and why couldn’t they accept him for who he was when he was more than happy to do  _ just that in return? _

She always had to bite her tongue, curl her toes, dig her nails into the leather of the steering wheel.  _ I love you, you idiot. I would never want to change you. You are so perfect for me. I’m perfect for you. I’d do anything for you. Why can’t you see?? _

But that wasn’t her job.

No.

Betty’s role in Jughead’s life was best friend. Better than Archie. Better than Ronnie. Better than Dilton or Reggie or Chuck or any other person in their group of tight-knit friends. 

Betty was Jughead’s best friend.

And best friends did not become girlfriends.

Betty was the one that Jughead trusted the most. He knew that Betty would always come when he called. Would bring her car and drive him aimlessly up and down the empty roads of Riverdale until they pulled back into Betty’s driveway. She would always lead him into her family’s kitchen, make him a cold plate of that night’s leftovers, take him into her room, tuck him into her bed and spend the rest of the twilight hours assuring him that nothing was wrong with him. That the right person was out there. That he was loved and while it didn’t work out this time, that didn’t mean all was hopeless.

Betty was Jughead’s best friend.

And she knew her role well.

It hurt.

But it was them. It was all she had.

“Well, that’s the end of Jazz.” Jughead sighed, face angled out of the passenger window.

Betty cleared her throat. “You doing ok?”

“Yeah. You know, same old, same old. Next week is, well, _ was _ going to be our five month anniversary and she wanted to use it to start looking at colleges together.”

College. Jughead didn’t want to go to college. At least not right away.

Betty knew that he wanted to take a year or two to travel, maybe join the peace corp or take part in some kind of volunteer program in South America.

“Ah.”

“Yeah,  _ exactly _ . She knows that I’m not interested in going to college.  _ God,  _ it’s already annoying enough getting the betrayed looks from my parents when I throw away those damn admissions pamphlets that come in the mail. I don’t need even more of that shit from someone I’m dating.”

Betty turned a into another neighborhood, her internal GPS reminding her that there was a basketball court down this road before she needed to turn towards the gated pool. “I’m sorry, Jughead.”

“You know what, stop at the pool. I need a smoke.”

The pool was a no-smoking zone. Betty kept her mouth shut as she eased up on the gas and pulled into the empty parking lot. He was out of the car before she even killed the engine, choking the steady stream of heat to a sudden end.

Feet sliding in her unlaced tennis shoes, Betty tucked her keys into her pocket and followed Jughead out, eyes on his broad back as he perched on the hood of her car.

His dark hair shone under the bright moonlight, nearly radiant in the silence of the sleeping town. It was like, with the rest of Riverdale in repose, Jughead was inhumanly alive and bright. A night walker that hoarded life beneath his very skin. A singular moon of the night that shone just for Betty.

He was a man worth loving. Even in silence. In secret. Zipping up her coat, Betty took a seat next to him, pressing her hip right against his, a line of shared heat along the outside of their thighs. The hood of the car was a little warm in comparison to the night air, but she still couldn’t help a shiver, pulling herself in tighter to keep the heat from escaping.

Unlit cigarette between his lips, Jughead pulled his arm tight around her shoulders, running his hands in sweeping arches of heat up and down her arm. He radiated blissful heat underneath his unbuttoned jacket and Betty selfishly burrowed into him.

“How the hell are you so warm all the time?”

“Just for you, Bets. Gotta keep my cold-blooded girl warm all-year round.”

Jughead’s cruelty was done in ignorance. 

His actions were kind but careless, no matter how painful they were to face. Every courteous word of love and affection that fell from his lips for Betty alone brought joy, warmth, and dull misery. 

Jughead loved Betty. There was no doubt about that. But his love was not the kind of love that Betty needed. Not that kind that she wanted.

And it killed her. Knowing that sometime in the future, one day, Betty was going to be the source of Jughead’s pain. She would reach her own breaking point, unable to stand another single moment beside the man she loved. The man who would never  _ love _ -love her back. She will have to push him away, leave his orbit for her own survival. For her own heart.

Because too much of this would break her.

And as much as Betty loved him, she had to look beyond Jughead. The world was too big. There were so many things to do and people to meet. So much more that Betty knew that she was meant for.

She dreaded that day. Hoped that it never came.

Betty wanted to hide in Jughead forever. She wanted to carve a space just for her in his chest, climb in, and never come back out. 

She wanted Jughead to feel the same way.

He had to feel the same way, because any other option doomed Betty to a slow, smothering death. Painful and draining in its intensity.

She wouldn’t survive it.

Couldn’t.

Shouldn’t.

Betty closed her eyes, blocking the stars with tear-heavy eyelids. Unaware, Jughead pulled the ends of his jacket around them both, pinning the ends together with an arm as he maneuvered to light his cigarette.

In an unspoken stalemate, the two of them remained silent. It was like they were children, sneaking in forbidden places while their parents slept through delicate dreams. Any sound or breath was a danger to awakening them, awakening the rest of the world.

Taking a deep, cleansing breath, Betty felt Jughead shift with her as her lungs expanded and emptied, stretched within the abyss of unmade decisions and corners unturned. She emptied her mind, retreated from her heartbreak for a moment of peace to examine facts.

They were best friends.

They knew each other, love each other. Accepted each other.

She was the cornerstone Jughead built himself upon as he explored himself and the world.

He was all that and galaxies more to Betty.

Betty was single.

Jughead was single (for now).

Those were the facts.

Plain.

Simple.

Hopeful. Just a little.

Betty stood on the edge of heartbreak, afraid to see what awaited her beyond that step over the precipice.

The smell of smoke and cold grass enveloped them.

Betty breathed.

“Juggie?”

And took a step.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt, unrequited love, AU. Title of the fic was pulled from Bon Iver’s “I Can’t Make You Love Me” (which aptly about unrequited love, and happens to be the very first Bon Iver song I ever heard and promptly fell in love with). I don’t think I’ll ever NOT associate these two with a song when I write! XP


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